It’s not where you think it is. Not long ago, someone was treating me to breakfast and took me to I.H.O.P. I asked the waiter if he could bring me butter, and he brought me margarine.
“Excuse me,” I asked him politely, “but do you have any butter butter? Real butter, I mean, not margarine?” His momentarily confused expression quickly passed, and then he promised to go ask his manager.
Five minutes later, the manager came out and asked me what I wanted. I reiterated that I simply wanted some butter. I wasn’t trying to be a pain, but surely the restaurant had real butter somewhere back in the kitchen.
Five minutes later, he returned. “We don’t have any butter,” he said.